


The New World

by PocketSizedWolf



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, M/M, Pets, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketSizedWolf/pseuds/PocketSizedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Nuclear Attack wipes half the country and leaves two thirds of the population infertile. Mycroft Holmes comes up with a way to fix the problem that results in Molly Hooper becoming Sherlock's pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Molly Hooper stared down at the white envelope, her heart racing. The contents of the letter she was about to read would shape her entire future. The forensic pathologist bit her lower lip as her trembling fingers began to tear into the glue holding the envelope closed. The paper inside was a light wheat colour, and she ran her fingers lightly over the folded letter for a few seconds as she gathered the strength to read it.

Finally unfolding it, she scanned through it quickly, skimming the unimportant parts, searching for the word she was looking for. She stared in horror at the red lettering, tears building in her eyes.

Fertile..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the starting chapter.. I'll post a bit more shortly


	2. The Choosing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda ran away with me. I do apologise if it sucks.

It had started six months ago. A shock result in an election here, a disagreement in government there, national debt crippling the economy, making people more and more desperate, and more and more cruel. A change in rules seemed to happen overnight with people only looking out for themselves, caring little for rules. Society fell apart as more people were left to starve.

And then China pressed the big red button.

Nuclear attacks shocked the civilised world, if that even existed anymore. China's rule breaking caused America to snap, threatening them with blockards, China retaliated. No Western country was going to tell it how to run itself. The missiles were launched. America retaliated.

The results were devastating for the world, and devastating for the United Kingdom. Everywhere north of Derby was destroyed, killing millions. Scotland was completely wiped out, and very few people survived in the north of England. Anarchy took over, people got worse than they'd been before the, very short, nuclear war. Something needed to be done.

It was Mycroft Holmes who rose to the challenge. His history of practically running the country was a great advantage when it came to taking charge of the ultimate chaos. Within a week, Mycroft had things more or less functioning back to normal in the south, while the north was left as a barren wasteland to which no one dared venture for fear of radiation poisoning. For a month, the country ran like clockwork. Businesses slowly began to open again and, though food was now rationed, people were feeling positive for the first time in a good while. Until the testing started.

Mycroft Holmes realised quickly that there was potential for internal damage from the radiation, that many of the country may now be infertile, resulting in the ultimate collapse of the human race. This couldn't do, he decided, and began a compulsory testing system that would ensure the fertility of the country. Once he knew what sort of numbers he was dealing with, he could decide the best course of action.

 

"Sherlock, you have to go.." John groaned, pulling on his coat and looking down at his flatmate. The change in the situation hadn't done much to help Sherlock. People didn't want to pay him for cases anymore, they had other priorities and Sherlock's brain was getting more and more bored. His experiments were getting worse, especially now that he had radioactive things to play with. John wasn't particularly pleased but then, he was a lot more thankful for Sherlock these days, since the 18 months he'd lived thinking he was dead.  
"Why?" the Consulting Detective looked up at his flatmate, his eyebrow raised defiantly. "It's stupid"  
"It's the law"  
"Mycroft's law. Hardly counts."  
"Sherlock!" John growled, frustrated. He threw the detective's trademark coat at him. "Get it on, and get up. You know what will happen. Besides, it will take 5 minutes..." Sherlock looked defiant once more. John rolled his eyes, pressing his lips to the other man's. "If you come, I'll make it worth your while.."  
The taller man stood up, pulling on his coat and slipping his scarf around his neck. Mycroft was an idiot, this fertility thing was pointless, but nevertheless, Sherlock moved towards the front door, his hand taking hold of John's.

It was better that they didn't know their results, Mycroft decided, at least not yet. He sat at his desk, his eyes scanning over the pieces of paper in front of him, his brain working over time, calculating. The radiation had caused two thirds of the population to become infertile. There was no other option, the government was going to have to make sure that fertile people were paired up with other fertile people. It was going to take a lot of work.

"Only 33% of people are still fertile.." John told Sherlock over breakfast, looking up over the newspaper. Sherlock shrugged. "Only 10% are female.. Mycroft is going to end up doing something stupid.."  
"Probably.. But he is an idiot." Sherlock pointed out. Possibly for the sixth time that week, John noted. John pulled his eyes back to the newspaper, reading on.  
"He's doing a press conference this afternoon.."  
"Then I hope his diet is going well. The camera adds ten pounds.."

Mycroft Holmes sat in front of the television camera, his fingers brushing over the piece of paper before him. The solution was drastic, but it would work, he was sure. The red light began to flash, the director nodded, and Mycroft began to speak.

"People of Britain. I'm sorry to tell you that we are in trouble. The entire human race will be in danger of extinction if we don't fix this now, and so, as of today, every marriage in the country is legally dissolved. Things are going to change, and drastically. Tomorrow, you will all receive letters to inform you of your fertility status. The 66% of you who are infertile can carry on as normal. The rest, well, that's where things change.." Mycroft took a deep breath. This was where things got complicated. "We need to ensure the human race is allowed to continue.. And so fertile people will be paired up. The letters you will receive tomorrow will explain further. Thank you."

"Did your letter arrive?" John asked Sherlock, his eyes scanning the table for anything that could possibly be the government letters.  
"I threw them out.."  
"Oh Sherlock!" John rolled his eyes, moving to the wastepaper bin and picking the envelopes out. He tore his open, scanning it quickly before opening Sherlock's and doing the same. "Don't you want to know?" he asked, looking at the tall man sat at the computer.  
"Not particularly, no."  
"Tough. We're both part of that 33%. We're fertile, Sherlock.." John quickly scanned both letters before frowning.  
"What is it?"  
"They're different."  
"How do you mean?"  
"The letters.. Mine just says 'further information will follow', while yours says you have to be at The Diogenes Club tomorrow morning"  
"I'm not going"  
"You don't have a choice.." The voice caused them both to turn, Sherlock instantly glaring at his brother  
"Oh? Going to force me, are you?"  
"Sherlock this is about more than just YOU" Mycroft moved into the room, sitting in the armchair opposite his brother. John rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the sofa. "You will be there, Sherlock."  
"Whatever for?"  
"Because.. As the second smartest man in the country" Sherlock snorted. Mycroft ignored him. "your DNA is exactly the sort that needs passing down to future generations. Sherlock, the country is in crisis. The birth rate is practically at zero. You will be there, or I will drag you by the ear, do you understand me." Sherlock shrugged in reply. Mycroft rose, satisfied, and made his way from the flat.

 

Sherlock and John made their way into the Diogenes Club behind Mycroft. The atmosphere between the three was tense, Mycroft irritated that Sherlock had brought John, Sherlock smug that Mycroft had given in to his demand - Let me bring John, or I don't come. John was merely curious about what the hell was going on. Mycroft lead them into the large room at the back, a room saved for functions, in which minimal talking was permitted. Around the walls of the room, pressed together were a gathering of different woman, all looking a little uncomfortable, no one knowing what was going on. The centre of the room contained rows of chairs, which slowly began to fill with men until all but one was taken.

Mycroft moved to the front of the room and began to speak.  
"Gentlemen. Welcome to the 'New World', if you will. Around the room you will see a selection of the only fertile women that remain in the country today. As the more intelligent and most influential fertile men left, you have the pick of the litter. If no women catch your eye, you will be invited back for the next three days, and a different selection provided for you to browse." Sherlock frowned as he looked around. Mycroft had already begun to talk about the women as though they were objects. He could see what was about to happen. "The women you choose will become your property. You will be completely responsible for their well being and health. They will be forced to give up work, and continue to bear children until the birth rate rises. Those who aren't picked will be sent elsewhere where the rest of the fertile population will be able to 'play' with them. Now.. Take your pick, gentlemen."

"This is horrific.." John whispered to Sherlock, but his lover's eyes were elsewhere, fixed on a particular woman he'd not recognised when he came into the room. Without a single word, he headed towards his brother. John watched as their discussion seemed to get a bit heated. John had lived with Sherlock long enough now, he knew how to read him 8 times out of 10. He could see the anger Sherlock was feeling by the tension in his shoulders and the fist he had made with his left hand. Eventually, Mycroft smiled, almost cruelly John thought, and tore a piece of paper in half, handing one half to John and the other to the man at his left. The man instantly moved towards the woman Sherlock had noticed and took her from the line, into the next room.

"Come on, we're done here." Sherlock said softly, picking up his coat from the back of the chair he'd been sitting upon. John frowned, confused, but his requests for information went ignored by Sherlock. They walked into the next room where Sherlock handed his piece of paper to Anthea, who barely looked up from her blackberry as she lead Sherlock into the next room. As John moved to follow, he was stopped by a rather large bouncer and, not wanting to be thrown from the building, he moved to sit in a chair opposite the door.

"I'm not signing those, Mycroft" Sherlock glared up at his older brother from across the desk. "She's a person, not an object"  
"She's a pet now, Sherlock"  
"She's a person"  
"No, she's a pet"  
"No, she's a forensic pathologist. One of the sweetest, cleverest women in the country and you'd do well to remember that.."  
"And you'd do well to remember what will happen to her if you don't follow the rules, now sign the paper."  
Defeated, and not wanting Molly to be sent away to whatever hell Mycroft had in store for the women who weren't chosen, Sherlock reluctantly signed the 'ownership papers'. Once he was done, he left the room and sat in the chair next to John, waiting.

The woman who followed Anthea out of the opposite door had her eyes fixed on the floor. She was holding herself awkwardly, her long dark hair almost covering her face, her eyes red from crying.  
"Molly?" John frowned, looking over the pathologist, instantly understanding how Sherlock had managed to choose his 'pet' so quickly. Around her neck, they'd fixed a thick leather collar, something Sherlock spotted immediately. Rising from his feet, he growled  
"Remove that"  
"But S--"  
"REMOVE IT" his eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, taking Molly's hand and pulling her towards him. He quickly unbuckled the collar and dropped it to the floor. "We won't be needing that, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse us.." he gave John a meaningful look and the doctor stood up, following Sherlock as he lead Molly from the building, and into a waiting cab.


	3. Chapter 3

She'd felt pretty numb from the minute she'd read her letter. Everything happened so quickly. The next day she arrived, as directed, at the large, overbearing building and waited to be allowed inside. Slowly, other women began arriving. No one spoke. Everyone was too nervous. Eventually, a tall, thin man allowed them inside, leading them into a large room and lining them up around the sides. Still no one spoke. Molly stared at the carpet, not looking around, not even looking up as a man took her letter from her and hung a number around her neck.

The room slowly began to fill with men until it was completely full, and then Mycroft spoke. As she listened to his words, she couldn't help but feel completely sick. She was about to become someone's 'pet'. Her. Molly Hooper, the youngest forensic pathologist St. Bart's had ever had. Years of studying and decent behaviour was all about to be washed down the drain and all because of stupid men and their stupid solutions. She was so angry, so irritated by this news that she barely even registered the fact that she was being lead out of the room.

She was taken into a tiny room that contained nothing but a large fire and a bench. The man leading her stripped her down quickly with clinical accuracy, before leading her to the bench and bending her over it. He strapped her down, fixing her wrists to cuffs on the floor and her knees to the legs of the bench. It wasn't until his fingers ran over her pale white buttock that Molly realised the position she was in.  
"What's--" she got out before a thick ball gag was forced between her teeth and strapped behind her head. A cold gel was then rubbed on her bottom, before the man pulled back complete. Molly sighed, her body relaxing as she felt herself left alone. But she still had no idea what was going on, and the thought of that terrified her. She struggled to glance around the room, but saw nothing but darkness.

A searing pain coursed through her body, causing her to scream into the gag as tears instantly began pouring down her cheeks. The man who'd 'prepared' her gave a slight smirk as he pressed the glowing brand into her flesh, ignoring the smell of burning flesh. Molly's head fell forward as darkness washed over her, the pain growing too much.

Her body ached as she was walked into another room. Her clothes had been put back on, but they rubbed her as she moved causing only more pain. She was forced on her knees as a pretty brunette picked up a thick black collar around her neck, attaching a leash to it before pulling her to her feet. She barely looked up as they pulled her into a bright corridor.

"Remove that" the voice caused her to look up, her heart pounding as she looked into the face of the man who now 'owned' her.  
"But S--"  
"REMOVE IT" she felt his hand pulling her towards him and unbuckling the collar. "We won't be needing that, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse us.." Her eyes followed it's path to the floor before she found herself pulled along the corridor and into the cold air outside.

He pulled her into his arms the minute they were in the cab, his fingers stroking her hair lightly.  
"I'm sorry you had to go through that.." he said softly as John climbed into the other side and gave the driver the address.  
"You bought me?" she frowned, not sure whether to be angry or flattered  
"Of course I did. I couldn't let anyone else.." he sighed as he let her go, staring out of the window. "At least with me you get to continue on as normal.."  
Molly shifted herself so that her backside wasn't on the seat, the pain still too much to bear. John smiled at her and she returned the smile softly, the awkward minutes passing quickly until the cab pulled up at 221b.  
"We'll set up John's old room for you.." Sherlock said bluntly as he climbed out of the cab.

"What did they do to you?" Sherlock asked as he sat in his armchair, stroking his violin. They'd not spoken much since they'd arrived home. John had immediately gone to put sheets on his old bed and remove all his possessions that remained in the room, moving them into Sherlock's bedroom, Molly had cooked a fairly decent meal, or at least she assumed it was decent as both men wolfed the food down, barely breathing as they did so. It wasn't until long after John had gone out to see Mike Stamford that Sherlock had even spoken.  
"What do you mean?"  
"You won't sit down.." he took her hand, pulling her into his lap before shifting her so she was face down.  
"Sherlock, don't.." she whispered softly, but he ignored her, gently pulling down her leggings. She closed her eyes, the complete humiliation causing her to blush terribly. Sherlock stared at Molly's arse, his teeth biting down on his lip to keep him from losing his temper. Her cheeks were bright red, each with a different mark upon them. An O on her left cheek that Sherlock assumed meant 'owned', and his initials branded onto Molly's pure skin. He would definitely be having words with Mycroft when he next saw him.

Molly lay face down on her new bed and sighed softly. Perhaps this won't actually be so bad, Sherlock seemed to have no interest in 'owning' her in the slightest and was continuing to treat her as a human being, something she knew wouldn't be happening to many of the other girls who had been forced to play Mycroft's game. Her bottom was tingling now, the pain merely a dull throb thanks to John, who'd walked in on Sherlock inspecting her brands and insisted on covering the burned flesh in pain relieving cream.

No, Molly thought as she closed her eyes, this wouldn't be too bad at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Her life with Sherlock had settled into a comfortable routine. She'd often spend hours during the day cleaning the flat, making it a more hospitible, only to have Sherlock return home like a complete whirlwind, messing up her entire day's work in a few minutes. She didn't mind, not really, not about him messing up the flat anyway. If she was honest with herself, she was getting a little fed up with having to stay home, she missed working. It felt like years since she'd last performed an autopsy. She lived for the days when Sherlock would have a murder case and drag her along to St. Bart's. Mycroft's new regime forbade her from working, but that morning, like so often, Sherlock had jumped onto her bed, startling her. As she looked up into his attractive face, beaming with the idea of a case that actually interested him, she found she couldn't be mad.  
"I need you to come to St. Bart's" he smiled "You're going to do an autopsy for me.."

So three hours later, she was running her scalpel along the sternum of the corpse, smiling to herself as she did so. It felt like second nature, like something she'd not been able to do for so long, but something she so desperately craved.  
"They're not the same.." he'd told her once, when she'd asked why he always took her along "None of them have your skill. They're idiots. They miss crucial clues. They're not.. you... You're my pathologist.."

"What do you think?" the dark haired detective bent over the corpse, pulling out his pocket magnifying glass.  
"Definite asphyxiation" Molly glanced at him, looking down at the notes he'd handed her seconds ago.  
"Correct.. anything interesting in the blood work?"  
"Large amount of Amatoxin. 12mg.."  
"Ah, and yet the cause of death was asphyxiation?"  
"Most definitely"  
"Correct again, Molly.." Sherlock smiled, kissing the side of her head. John frowned slightly as he watched the display before him. Over the past few weeks, he seemed to have slipped back into the role of housemate more than boyfriend. It was beginning to irritate him somewhat, but he could hardly blame Molly for it, she was the victim in all of this, at the end of the day.

Molly sat behind Sherlock, glancing around Scotland Yard like an excited schoolgirl. She'd never been there before, and the fact that she was there helping Sherlock with a case just made her feel special.  
"Any ideas?"  
"Oh I've solved the case, Lestrade. Arrest her sister. And her husband."  
"Care to explain?" Lestrade asked, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, his eyes focussed on the detective. Molly smirked, watching as Sherlock explained the ins and outs of the case in his usual, arrogant manner.  
"The victim's sister was sleeping with her husband.." Sherlock said. He was growing bored with these dull cases. Why were the police so out of their depth so often? Still.. at least the world was slowly getting back to normal, case wise. "And the husband had a.. rather large life insurance policy taken out on his wife and so planned to poison her before heading off on a business trip, shown by his choice of poison.. What he didn't plan on, however, the two sisters getting into an argument, and one of them strangling the other.."  
"How did you.." Lestrade started, as Sherlock rose from his seat.  
"You'd have worked it out far quicker if you had a pathologist who was as good as mine.."

"What are YOU doing here?" Sherlock snapped as he entered the room, glaring at his elder brother. Mycroft sat in Sherlock's armchair, twirling his umbrella lightly. His very presence irritated Sherlock at that minute, he'd still not forgiven Mycroft for the whole 'selling Molly as a pet' thing.  
"I've come to collect that which isn't being used..." Mycroft stated simply.  
"What are you talking about?" Sherlock frowned. Why was his brother such an idiot?  
"Molly.. You're not breeding with her, so I'm going to take her to someone who will.."


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock's face dropped.  
"No."  
"Sherlock.. You're rather missing the point of this whole programme." Mycroft stood, attempting to move towards Molly, but Sherlock stepped between them, overly protective of Molly.  
"You're not taking her."  
"I'm afraid I have to.. We know you've not been attempting to create a child. You've not even kissed the girl, Sherlock. You're wasting a valuable resource."  
"She's not a resource, Mycroft, she's Molly. MY Molly.." he growled, spinning on his heel to face the woman in question. "Forgive me for this.." he sighed softly, brushing his thumb over her jawline. Gently, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her deeply. Mycroft frowned, his fingers lightly fiddling with the handle of his umbrella. Sherlock's fingers moved to cup Molly's cheek, his thumb lightly brushing over her pale skin, his lips working against hers. It wasn't exactly something she'd expected, and she wasn't entirely sure her knees would hold her up much longer. So much time she'd spent lusting after Sherlock, and she was pretty sure this was never going to happen, and yet here she was, stood in 221b Baker Street with Sherlock Holmes' lips pressed against her own. Mycroft cleared his throat, causing the pair to break their kiss.  
"Fine, Sherlock, you win.. You have 3 months. If she's not pregnant by then, we'll be taking her.."

After Mycroft had gone, Sherlock had instantly moved into his armchair. He needed to think. He'd subconsciously picked up his violin, stroking the strings gently, plucking them occasionally as he so often did when he was deep in thought. Molly remained where she'd been standing, half in shock, half not wanting to disturb the man who'd retreated into his brilliant mind. She watched him, watched his long fingers as they moved against the dark wood of his violin, there was something so beautiful about the very sight.

"John, I need you to go out this evening.." Sherlock spoke after a while. Molly frowned. John had left them to go shopping, he'd not even been here for the whole 'Mycroft' drama. She was about to open her mouth to say something when a voice behind her made her jump  
"What for?" Of course, Sherlock had heard John come in, probably while Molly was ridiculously hypnotised by Sherlock's fingers.  
"Because Molly and I have some business to attend to, to ensure her continued stay with us."  
"Oh.. I'll.. go visit Harry then?"  
"If you would.."

They ate dinner in silence, a slight tension in the room. John obviously knew what was about to happen, and he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. But then, Sherlock had explained Mycroft's visit and he could hardly subject Molly to whatever horrors awaited her if this didn't happen. With a sigh, and only half of his dinner eaten, he rose from his seat.  
"I'd better go. I said I'd be there by six.." he said, simply, before grabbing his coat and heading out.

"You've barely eaten anything.." Sherlock noted as he polished off his own meal. He'd not eaten much while on the case, and it always came back to him when he finished. He could eat for days.  
"I'm not hungry.." He nodded. She was nervous, it was obvious. He echoed the feeling himself, though he'd never admit it. He'd never been with a woman before, John was, so far, his one and only, but even that happened rarely. Usually only after a case when the build up of hormones that he experienced while solving them almost overwhelmed him. Mycroft's timing had been, he realised, impeccable. He rose from his seat, picking up Molly's plate and leaving them both on the side by the sink. He wasn't usually one for clearing up, but he found himself procrastinating.

After a few minutes of watching her, he moved back towards the table, silently holding his hand out for her. She looked up, her heart racing. So this was it, the moment she'd dreamed about for years, and yet, it was the least romantic set up she could think of. She sighed softly as she placed her hand in his and pulled herself up from her seat. He gently lead her towards his bedroom, closing the door behind them. He knew Molly well, knew that privacy was important to her, it was the reason he'd apologised before kissing her in front of Mycroft, and the reason he'd asked John to leave them alone that evening.

"You don't have to be nervous, Molly.." he said as he leaned against the closed door, his eyes watching the woman before him. She was brilliant, his Molly Hooper, and in the gradually darkening bedroom, the evening light caused the loveliest glow to cover her. He couldn't help but smile as she continued to shift nervously from foot to foot.  
"That's easier said than done.." she spoke softly, looking up at him. Oh God, she thought as her eyes lingered over his face before eventually meeting his gaze, this is Sherlock Holmes. The Sherlock Holmes. She felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach that she'd not felt since this whole thing had started. He was moving towards her now, and she found herself buried against his chest as he pulled her into a hug.  
"I'm sure it is.. But I know you've wanted this for a while." his fingers brushed through her hair, planting a soft kiss against her temple. "And I'd be lying if I said I haven't.."  
Those words shocked her and she looked, a frown on her face. "What?"  
He didn't say anything more, he merely pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly. She remained still for a few minutes, being kissed but not returning it. She couldn't work it out. Was he toying with her, pretending he wanted this just so that she'd get comfortable? He pulled back, frowning.  
"What is it?"  
"Is this a game to you, Sherlock?"  
"What? No.."  
"Then why.." she sighed, shaking her head "Don't pretend you've wanted this. You were happy with John before any of this started, and before then you were always just.. horrid to me. So don't pretend you've dreamed about this happening.." She was getting upset now, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she ended up in tears. But she didn't want to cry in front of him. She never had before, despite the numerous horrid things he'd said to her, the times when he'd humiliated her or the obvious lack of care he'd shown her.  
"Molly.." his hand moved to cup her cheek, lightly brushing his thumb over her skin in a way he'd learnt calmed her down. She closed her eyes, avoiding his gaze. "Those things I did.. The way I treated you.." he sighed "I hated myself for it, but I had no idea how to do anything about how I felt for you." Tears had begun to run down her cheeks now, and he was surprised how much it hurt him to see it. He gently wiped them away before pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, Molly.. But I promise you.. none of this is a game.." Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him. Sherlock Holmes was a great liar, she knew that. He'd proven that the very first day they'd met, and many times since, and yet there was a trace of something in his eyes that there had never been before. Without a word, she pressed her lips to his.

He smiled softly and returned her kiss deeply, kissing her more passionately than he had earlier in front of Mycroft. Slowly, his fingers ran down her cardigan, popping open the buttons slowly before slipping it over her shoulders. Her blouse was next, followed quickly by her skirt. He continued to kiss her as he moved her towards the bed, pushing her down onto it slowly before pulling back, taking in her, almost naked, body. There was something breathtaking about seeing Molly Hooper dressed only in her underwear, lying back against his pillows, and all he could think about in that moment, as his eyes lingered over her stomach, was that he was wearing too many clothes.

He quickly unbuttoned his purple shirt, throwing it into the pile of Molly's clothes, his trousers joining the pile soon after. Molly watched him, rather amused at his speed and as he pulled off his trousers, she couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.  
"What is it?" he asked, his eyebrows pressing together as they often did when he was confused.  
"Nothing.."  
"Molly.."  
"Nothing, I just.. I never saw Sherlock Holmes as a boxers man." she smiled, moving towards him to press her lips against his. He raised his eyebrow, about to question what kind of man she thought he was in that case, but her lips against his pushed the question from his mind. He slipped his tongue between her lips, gently exploring her as his fingers trailed down her body, gently caressing her breasts through the material of her bra. After a few seconds, she needed more and silently removed her bra, dropping it to the floor. Sherlock wasted no time as he pressed her back against the mattress, his thumbs gently brushing over her nipples as his tongue danced with hers, his hips moving lightly against hers.

She could feel his growing erection and the very thought that it would soon be in her as he attempted to impregnate her sent a shiver down her spine. Sherlock ran one hand up into her hair, gently playing with the loose strands, brushing it from her face, as the other moved down her stomach, stroking the smooth skin. He hesitated for a second at the waist band of her delicate lace panties, toying with the fabric before slipping his hand beneath it, seeking out the soft bud he knew would make her jolt in pleasure.

His touch sent electricity shooting up her spine, and she couldn't help but gasp as his slender finger brushed over her clit. She unconsciously moved her legs further apart, welcoming his touch that he so willingly gave. He teased her clit for a few minutes, watching as she twitched and panted, enjoying, more than anything, that it was him making her move like this. He dipped his fingers into her lightly, feeling the wetness growing there. She was ready, and the tent in his boxers told him that he was too. He gently removed his hand from her panties, smirking as she groaned in disappointment, and pulled them down over her hips and down her legs before throwing them aside. He kissed her stomach lightly, dipping his head between her thighs. He'd always been curious about what she'd taste like and couldn't resist finding out. He ran his tongue along her before gently pushing it into her, his nose brushing against her clit. Her fingers gripped the sheets as he lapped at her, and she couldn't help but moan.

It was over far too soon, and he was quickly kissing her again. She could taste herself on his lips and shuddered lightly at the thought, but her thoughts were soon filled with something completely different as she felt his, now freed, cock brushing against her.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly, stroking her hair tenderly. She nodded, looking up at him, her lips seeking out his once more. Kissing her intensely, he slowly entered her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She moaned, feeling more filled than she ever had. She'd not expected him to be as large as he was. Once he'd buried himself completely within her, he pulled almost completely out before pushing back again. He slowly kissed along her jaw as he thrust slowly, his fingers brushing over her clit. She was tight and he wasn't sure how long he could hold on, but he'd wanted her for too long to let it all be over in such a short time.

She moaned into his mouth, kissing him heatedly, moving herself against him. His free hand moved over her breast, lightly pinching her nipple which caused Molly to moan in pleasure and arch her back towards him. He chuckled softly as he increased the speed of his thrusts, mentally noting that Molly Hooper enjoyed a light amount of pain during intercourse. He pinched her other nipple as he began to move harder against her, his hips bumping against hers with a force he knew would bruise her pale skin. He moved both his hands to her hips, pulling her against him as he moved. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers moving into his hair, tugging lightly on his curls as she felt the pleasure building within her.

Her moans were getting louder, and she was sure that Mrs Hudson would be able to hear them from downstairs, and yet for once in her life, she didn't care. All that mattered to her now was him, the way he smelled, the way he felt, the force at which he was fucking her. His fingers cupped her ass, brushing over the marks burned into the skin. They didn't hurt any more, but even if they had, she wasn't sure anything would stop her feeling pleasure as Sherlock moved his magnificent cock inside her.

His fingers moved back to her clit, teasing her in time to his thrusts. She couldn't hold on much longer, and curled her toes as she hit her climax. He smiled, kissing up her neck as he felt her come. His lips ran along her jawline and he nipped lightly at her earlobe as he gave one last, hard thrust and came deep inside her.


	6. Chapter 6

He groaned in pleasure as her hips moved against him, his fingers brushing over her nipples as he looked up at her. She moved gently, all her awkwardness and nervousness gone completely as she rode him. She was magnificent he thought as he watched her breasts bouncing in time to her movements. She gripped the back of his armchair as she moved, clenching around his shaft. Her lips brushed over his chest and he couldn't help but smile at how brave she became when she was in the throws of pleasure.

He couldn't hold on much longer and came hard, releasing within her. His fingers moved to brush over her clit, driving her towards her own orgasm. She fell against him as she came down from her high, panting against his chest.

After a few minutes, Sherlock lifted her and moved her to the sofa, laying her down on it before placing a pillow beneath her hips.  
"Stay like that for an hour" he smiled, bending down to kiss her softly on the lips. They both froze as he pulled back, realising what he'd done. "I.." he paused, unsure what to say. Molly pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling her fingers shaking lightly. It was one thing showing affection during sex, but afterwards.. that was new. After three weeks of having sex with Sherlock Holmes, she didn't think it was possible for him to surprise her, and yet, here he was doing so.

The feel of her fingers in his hair was something he couldn't get over.

There was something about his nights with Molly that he couldn't get out of his head. It had been different to his nights with John. It had felt more loving, more natural. He couldn't get the way she'd moaned out of his head, or the way her lips tasted, or the way it felt to be deep inside her with her body twitching in orgasm. He shook his head and looked at John with a smile as the man passed him a cup of tea. It was a fake smile, and he was pretty sure that John knew it.

"You ok?" John asked, tilting his head.  
"Fine." Sherlock sipped at his tea  
"Liar.. Sherlock, I know what's going on.."  
"What?"  
"You're worrying that you've not gotten her pregnant, aren't you?" Sherlock frowned. In honesty, he'd not even thought about that.  
"Oh.. well yes, quite."  
"But you've tracked her cycle?"  
"Of course."  
"Then I'm sure there's nothing to worry about"  
"John.." he reached across the table, squeezing John's hand. He should say something, they should talk about these odd emotions Molly was stirring up within him.  
"Sherlock.. it's fine." John sighed. He'd noticed the change in his... whatever Sherlock was. He'd have been an idiot not to, and he knew Sherlock better than anyone. "I'm not an idiot.. You've changed and.. I think you're in love with her."  
"What?"  
"It's obvious" John sighed. "I know you love me, you've told me enough times and I know it's true... but I think it's a different kind of love"  
"No, John, I- I don't want- I don't.. know."  
"I do." John smiled. He actually smiled a genuine smile and Sherlock frowned, not knowing how to take it.  
"Don't leave"  
"I'm not going to." he smiled, taking Sherlock's hands in his. "I'm just.. going to let you have her in the way you're meant to."  
"What?"  
"I'll move back into my old room.. We'll be flatmates again, best friends as always, but not lovers.. I think you're meant to be with Molly."

When Molly returned from her the health check Mycroft had demanded she take, the flat was empty. She moved up the stairs towards her room, deciding that it was a PJ and ice cream sort of night, but opening the drawer in which she normally kept her night things, she found John's clothes. She frowned and checked the other drawers. More of John's things. She frowned and moved back downstairs.  
"John? What's going on?" she asked as she watched the solider walking up the stairs to the sitting room.  
"Molly, we need to talk.."

She curled her knees into her chest as she sat on the sofa. Defensive, she observed, but watched John curiously.  
"Sherlock and I have talked, and this whole thing isn't working out.." She felt that gut-wrenching horror, thinking she was about to be turned out, handed over to Mycroft to give away to whomever he chose.  
"I.. how do you mean?" she managed to get out, biting her lower lip.  
"Sherlock is in love with you, more than he's in love with me.. So I've stepped down. I'd rather remain in his life as a friend than cause him emotional distress by clinging to him as a lover... He's yours."  
"John, I.." his words didn't make sense to her. Sherlock didn't love her, she was sure of that. No, this was a dream.  
"You don't have to say anything. I just thought I'd explain why your stuff had been moved into his room."  
"I didn't mean to come between you" she blurted out, her fingers brushing against her ankles.  
"I know. You didn't. It's fine, Molly" John smiled, kissing her softly on the cheek.

"Mycroft called." John and Molly were sat on the sofa, staring at the television as the Consulting Detective swept into the room. John immediately pressed mute on the remote, and they both looked blankly at Sherlock.  
"What did he say?" Molly asked softly. As Mycroft now classed her as a 'pet', he wouldn't give any of her health results to her, choosing to speak directly to her 'owner'. She'd spent most of the afternoon worrying over what the tests would say and now, knowing Sherlock was about to tell her, her heart was throwing itself against her chest.  
"He said.. you're pregnant." he smiled, pulling her up from the sofa and kissing her deeply. The relief she felt didn't surprise her in the least.  
"He'll never take you now.." Sherlock whispered against her ear as he held her close "You're all mine.. "  
"Sherlock Holmes.." Molly sighed with a soft smile on her lips, looking up at him "I always was.."


	7. Chapter 7

John Watson stared at his laptop. He didn't know why he bothered to keep a blog these days. Since the nuclear attacks, he wasn't sure anyone bothered to read it any more. Why would they? With Mycroft's rules, they had enough to worry about. Sherlock was barely taking cases these days anyway, with Molly's pregnancy constantly on his mind. He'd confided to John that he feared something would happen, that Mycroft would find a way to take her away. He'd have married her if Mycroft hadn't changed the law to forbid it. People couldn't marry their pets, after all. Despite this, though, it was hard for John to live in the same house as the 'happy couple'. His heart broke a little as he watched Sherlock pampering the ex-pathologist, but deep down he knew this was for the better and in reality, Sherlock had barely changed in his attitudes towards him.

"Happy birthday John.." Molly smiled softly as she walked through the sitting room towards the kitchen.  
"Thanks Molly.." he returned her smile as his eyes ran over her body, lingering at her growing bump. Sherlock had him examining her once a week to make sure everything was as it should be. John couldn't help but think he was being a little cautious, but who could blame him really? They were all still constantly living in the fear that Mycroft might take Molly at any moment, just because he felt like it. Molly handed John a cup of tea and a neatly wrapped package that he opened immediately before taking a sip of the tea. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the deep blue cashmere jumper.  
"Thanks Molly, it's gorgeous"  
"I'm glad you like it" she smiled, curling her feet beneath her as she sat on the sofa.

Footsteps on the stairs caused the pair to look at one another. Sherlock was still sleeping and Mrs Hudson was cleaning the bathroom (just this once, she wasn't a housekeeper), so they knew that whoever was climbing the stairs was not someone who lived there. Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway and Molly instantly stood up and headed into the kitchen.  
"Typical of Sherlock to allow his pets on the furniture.." Mycroft grumbled, before smiling at John  
"Happy Birthday, Doctor Watson."  
"Thanks Mycroft.. Sherlock's asleep.."  
"Then get _her_ to wake him.." Molly shivered at Mycroft's tone and moved into the bedroom to wake Sherlock.

"Did you get her?" Sherlock asked as he moved into the sitting room, sheet wrapped carefully around his body, Molly behind him, hidden from Mycroft's gaze.  
"Of course. I told you I would.."  
"Sherlock, what.." John started  
"Then bring her in, Mycroft.." Sherlock ignored John and moved to sit down, pulling Molly beside him. Mycroft stiffened as he watched. There was far too much affection there for his taste, but at least Sherlock had surrendered to Mycroft's orders.

A heavily pregnant Anthea made her way up the stairs, a girl following behind her. She was no more than 18, her thick blonde curly hair falling over her tear stained face. Mycroft looked to Anthea and smiled slightly. Although she'd become his 'pet', he couldn't stop her being his PA, purely because no one was as good. He'd interviewed many the moment she'd fallen pregnant, but they were all idiots. No one was as good as Anthea.  
"For you John.." Mycroft smiled as the blonde teenager was lead to the centre of the room. John's eyes widened.  
"What?"  
"A birthday present.. Her name is Mary.. not that it matters.."  
"I don't understand.." John frowned, looking to Sherlock. The detective raised an eyebrow.  
"Mycroft thought it would be good for you to have your own... pet." he shuddered at that last word.

John's fingers ran over Mary's arm as he cleaned the cuts on her wrists. They'd had her restrained, using ropes Sherlock had noted, and John couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young girl. Mycroft had explained that under his new rules, children were tested at the age of 16, and the fertile females taken from their parents, given to fertile men once they'd turned 18.  
"I know this situation isn't ideal.." John said after a few minutes of silence, his eyes glancing briefly towards Molly and Sherlock curled on the sofa, both reading from Sherlock's science textbooks. Perhaps this wasn't all bad. Maybe sometimes it could work out for the better in an odd way, and maybe this was one of those times. "But you've come to a good place. You'll be taken care of here."  
Mary looked at John, her brown eyes meeting his as she spoke for the first time.  
"Thank you.."


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft Holmes didn't like to be argued with. All his life, he'd been used to people taking his orders. He'd grown up in a very privileged home, listened to by the maids who worked for the family. His intelligence ensured his quick ascent through the ranks and before the age of 30, Mycroft Holmes was the British Government. After reaching his position, he found that no one ever argued with him. No one, that is, but Sherlock Holmes. So it came as a surprise to Mycroft when many of the infertile masses began to protest against the way he'd decided to run the new system. When it came down to it, however, he didn't care. He merely rewarded their idiotic protests by restricting the rights of the 'pets'. That's why he'd decided they shouldn't be allowed to marry.

He sighed to himself as he leaned back in his chair, watching Anthea as she organised his diary. This wasn't exactly how he'd meant for this to go, if he was honest. He'd wanted a sort of 1950's home, in which the fertile women were pampered and mainly existed at breeding machines and housekeepers, but some cruel, cold part of his soul had put the emphasis on 'breeding machine'. Still, Anthea was pampered when he had the time, though that was rare. There was too much to be done and he needed to check on his brother once more. The case of Sherlock and Molly Hooper was amusing to him, to say the least. He'd never planned on actually taking Molly away from Sherlock, but the threat had made Sherlock behave and so Mycroft kept it there. 

He rose from his seat and moved out of his office, about to head out to another meeting when he paused by Anthea's desk.   
"Could you ensure I have the most recent data on the birth rate by tomorrow morning?"

"Did you know them before the War?" Mary had said softly to Molly one evening while Sherlock and John were out on a case. Molly froze, her hands submerged in the hot soapy water of the washing up bowl. She didn't like to think about the time before this had all happened, back when she was considered to be a person and not just a belonging. Of course, Sherlock never saw her this way, but Mycroft did, and in the eyes of the law that was all she was. She continued to scrub the roasting tin as she sighed softly.  
"I did.. I've known Sherlock for 6 years now.. I met him on my first day at work, I used to be a Forensic Pathologist.. and he, well, he was always in the morgue. John I met about 3 years later.. they're.. lovely men." she smiled, sitting the roasting tin on the draining board and drying her hands with one of the tea towels.  
"They seem to be.." Mary smiled, brushing her fingers through her blonde curls. Molly smiled softly as she neatly folded up the tea towel. She liked Mary, the two women had bonded quite quickly over the past 6 weeks and slowly things were beginning to settle once more. John and Mary had moved into the flat downstairs, allowing Molly and Sherlock to convert John's old room into a nursery. The peace made Sherlock irritable, however, and Molly didn't quite know how to make him relax. She felt a bit uneasy herself. Usually when her life seemed to be falling into place, something came along to destroy it, and she figured that was what was making Sherlock angsty as well. 

Mary sat silently, watching John eat from across the table. Over the past few weeks, they'd gotten fairly close. John treated her as a human being and Mary appreciated that, especially in these difficult times. Life could have been worse, she realised. She could have ended up with someone who took the whole 'pet' thing completely to heart, and she'd heard a few whispers that those people actually existed. She wondered why she'd not been placed with someone round about her own age, John was nearly twice her age, but perhaps this was right for her. Love knew no boundaries, after all. She froze at that thought, fork inches from her mouth.  
"What is it?" John asked with a frown, and she smiled softly at the gentleness and concern in his voice  
"Nothing.."  
"You can tell me.." John reached across the table, squeezing her hand gently  
"I just.. I think I'm falling in love with you." John stood up and pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers. He wasn't completely over Sherlock, not by a long shot, but Mary's kindness was melting his heart somewhat, and he found himself drawn in by the teen. 

They sat down on the sofa, John pulling Mary into his arms once more. She looked up at him, smiling softly before pressing her lips to his once more. He returned the kiss, gently pressing her back against the arm of the sofa. John's lips ran down Mary's neck and she let out a soft moan, brushing her fingers through his hair. Quickly, John removed his jumper and shirt, his fingers unbuttoning her blouse quickly. 

Soon, they were both topless, kissing heatedly upon the sofa, John's fingers trailing down Mary's stomach. It was at this point that the door to the flat was thrown open.  
"Jesus Christ, Sherlock!" John groaned, quickly handing Mary's shirt back to her. She quickly pulled it back on, buttoning it quickly.   
"John, I need your help"  
"We're in the middle of something!"  
"I need you to come upstairs.."  
"What for?" John grumbled, pulling his shirt back on and lazily re-buttoning it  
"Molly's in labour."


	9. Chapter 9

"She's six weeks early.." John frowned as he looked at Mary, his hand in hers as they sat in the hospital waiting room. Mary's thumb lightly tickled the back of his hand, distracting him somewhat from the thoughts inside his head. This was.. weird. If you'd told him a year ago that Mycroft would be running the country, and Sherlock and Molly would be having a baby, he wouldn't have believed a word of it. Yet, here he was, waiting for news. He glanced at Mary, biting his lower lip. He wanted to bring up earlier, what had happened between them, but he couldn't find the words, and perhaps, he realised, this wasn't the right place anyway.

Molly stared down at the tiny baby in the plastic cot before her, filled with more love than she'd ever felt in her life, for anyone, including Sherlock. Despite being 6 weeks early, their baby was healthy enough, a little on the lighter side, but he was pretty perfect. The thick dark hair that rested on his head was to be expected, and his eyes were completely identical to his father's. Gently, she brushed her fingers through the baby's hair.  
"He's too light.." the voice caused her to jump slightly, but she still couldn't tear her eyes from their son.  
"I know.."  
"They want to keep you both in overnight.." the sides of Molly's lips curved into a smile as she picked up the traces of complaining in Sherlock's tone.  
"Is that a problem?" she asked, innocently. Sherlock moved to the opposite side of the cot, sitting down.  
"I'm sure I'll survive one night without you.."

"Sherlock, it's only an extra day.." John glanced up at his ex-lover with a frown "They're both fine, they're just taking precautions.." Sherlock paced in front of the fireplace, his fingers steepled together. He gave John a look, before continuing his pacing.  
"Are you sure they're fine?"  
"Yes. Completely sure.. The baby's early, they'll just be making sure they're both alright.."  
"Right.." Sherlock sat down in his chair and sighed softly. "I don't think I like this parenthood thing, John.. Too much stress.."  
"I think you're adapting surprisingly well so far.." John smiled, before getting up from the chair that was still considered to be 'his' chair. "But for now.. just.. read a parenting book or something."

Mycroft glanced down at the papers in front of him, emails he'd printed out because the light from the computer had begun to hurt his eyes. The sound of a baby crying was beginning to give him a headache. He really should consider getting a new nanny, one who could actually manage to quieten the 6 month old who constantly filled the house with noise.  
"Headache?" her fingers ran lightly across his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his temple.  
"Mmm, quite.." he turned his head and caught her lips with his own, spinning his chair and pulling her onto his lap. His fingers brushed through her hair as she lightly planted kisses along his jaw.  
"You're rather distracting, you know.. I have things I'm meant to be doing.."  
"I know.. I just thought you might like to know that you're an uncle."  
Mycroft's eyebrow raised and a smile appeared on his face, his fingers continuing to stroke Anthea's hair lightly.  
"Excellent.."  
Anthea's fingers brushed down Mycroft's waistcoat, slowly popping the buttons. "Indeed.. and it got me thinking.."  
"About what?"  
"Having another one.. This was meant to be a breeding thing, wasn't it?"  
"I- yes, I suppose.." Mycroft looked up at Anthea, her blue eyes causing butterflies to flood his stomach in a way he'd never imagined. He wasn't the type to get nervous, or have feelings for someone, or feelings at all, if he was honest. He brushed a hand gently over her cheek, before softly kissing her lips. "Perhaps it's time things changed..."  
Anthea looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, before returning his kiss, heatedly.

"Sherlock, I know what I'm doing.." Molly rolled her eyes as she continued changing the baby, glancing towards the consulting detective as he perched on the edge of his armchair, a baby book in his hands.  
"But this says.."  
"It doesn't matter what a book says.. I already know what I'm doing.." she rolled her eyes again, lifting the clean baby up from the changing mat and handing him gently to Sherlock before cleaning up. Sherlock looked down at the tiny being that had been put into his arms, mentally reminding himself to support the head and neck. Their eyes met and Sherlock sighed softly, a gentle smile creeping onto his face. He wasn't sure he had what it took to be a father, and he wasn't happy with the way the entire situation had unfolded, but as he looked into the eyes of the brand new human being, he couldn't find it in him to be unhappy about anything at that moment in time.

The footsteps on the stairs, however, said differently.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft? We've done as you asked.." Sherlock spoke without looking up from the newborn, lightly running a finger through the baby's thick dark hair.  
"I came to see my nephew. Is that a crime?"  
"It should be.." Sherlock muttered under his breath, still not looking at his brother. The baby in his arms was too distracting. His wide eyes stared around the room, full of curiosity and Sherlock chuckled softly, wondering fleetingly whether he was the same as a baby. Mycroft moved to sit down, glancing at the baby. He looked very like Sherlock had as a baby.  
"Is he healthy?"  
"Very, considering."  
"Ah yes.. 5lb 8oz at birth, correct?"  
"Stalking me again?" Sherlock frowned and glanced up, meeting his brother's gaze for the first time. "Did you want something, Mycroft?"  
"I told you. I came to see my nephew.."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head. "Getting sentimental?"  
"I fear I must be.." Mycroft looked at his brother and his nephew, smiling slightly. He couldn't help but feel proud of Sherlock for actually doing as he was told for once.

"Sherlock, is he ok? Does he need feed-oh. Hello.." Molly froze in the doorway as Mycroft looked at her.  
"He's fine, Molly.. Falling asleep.. Best not to wake him" She nodded without a word, moving towards the kitchen.  
"Miss Hooper, wait a moment.." Mycroft rose from his seat and Sherlock looked up in surprise. Since the new 'laws' had come in, Mycroft had only ever referred to Molly as 'her', something that irritated Sherlock eternally. He had wondered if Mycroft knew this and that was why he continued to do so, but when Mary had moved in, Sherlock had realised that his brother actually referred to all fertile women in the same way. Molly froze in the doorway, slowly turning to face Mycroft. Her eyes met Sherlock's across the room and the curly haired detective shrugged. He was just as confused as Molly. Mycroft moved towards the former Forensic Pathologist, straightening himself up as he scanned her quickly.  
"Congratulations, he's.. lovely"

"He's up to something.." Sherlock frowned as he handed Molly a mug of tea. She took it thankfully, warming her hands as she held it, watching him as he sat down in his armchair.  
"Did he go down alright?"  
"Yeah, fast asleep.." the frown was still on Sherlock's face "I can't work it out.."  
"Are we still talking about Mycroft?"  
"Obviously, keep up.." he shook his head, placing his fingers together and resting them beneath his chin. "He wouldn't just change his attitude so quickly.. He's got to be lulling us into some false sense of security.."  
"I think you're worrying too much.."  
"I think you're naive.."  
"Thanks, Sherlock.." she shook her head, sipping at her tea.

Mycroft Holmes didn't sleep that night. His brain was busy ticking over things, working out numbers and repercussions. Obviously there would be none for him, no matter what happened. He had control of the army, the secret service and the police, but perhaps it was time that he was a less.. public figure. Things worked better when he was the brains behind everything without being the face of it.

The television cameras were on him before he knew what he was going to say, and he desperately needed a drink. Scotch, perhaps.  
"People of Britain.." he started, glancing down at the paper on his desk. "I'm pleased to announce that the past year has been a success and the birth rate is on the incline. As a result, I am lifting any previous laws set in place regarding the fertile population. Women shall no longer be seen as pets, men will no longer control them, everyone is free to marry once more. Letters will be sent out tomorrow. Good day."

As the camera's shut off, Mycroft glanced at the crowd of people gathered behind them, finding himself instantly drawn to the pretty brunette, the woman who had been his rock since the day he'd hired her as his PA. She smiled softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. She was beautiful, Mycroft thought to himself as he rose from his desk, and his mother's engagement ring did look perfect on her finger.


	10. Chapter 10

"They've decided to have a street party.." John chuckled as he pushed open the door to Sherlock and Molly's flat. He walked past the couple and towards the window, glancing out into the street below. People were setting up tables, pulling chairs into the road and the general feeling out there was one of joy and relief. The horrors of the year and a half were finally over, and finally things could begin to get back to normal. Sherlock moved towards the window and looked out, shaking his head.  
"Idiots.." he mumbled, rolling his eyes.  
"They're just happy, Sherlock. Mycroft has stopped being a controlling, cruel dick and seen reason."  
"But WHY?" he frowned, moving away from the window and sitting down in his chair. "He's up to something. This seems wrong, it's un-Mycroft.." he leaned back, steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His eyes closed as he went into his mind palace. Why had Mycroft changed his mind so quickly? False sense of security, perhaps? Threats from other countries? He wasn't sure, but he was sure that within the next few days, he'd find out.

The envelope landed softly on the doormat at 8am precisely. A sleepy Molly Hooper picked it up and glanced down at the gold, flowery lettering. It wasn't handwriting she recognised. She moved into the kitchen where she placed it gently in front of Sherlock before moving to make them both a cup of tea. Sherlock sat at the table, the baby in his arms, staring down into the big blue eyes that were identical to his own. The baby had drawn him in, and he'd not expected this to happen. No one had ever told him how fatherhood felt, and he was pretty sure his own father hadn't felt this way about Mycroft and himself, or the man would have stuck around a lot longer. As Molly placed the envelope down, Sherlock picked it up and examined it.  
"It's from Mycroft"  
"Oh. Why has he put both our names on it? I mean, I know he was going to send out compensation for damages and everything but... that's handwritten."  
"Yes.. I'm not sure.." the Consulting Detective opened the envelope with one hand, the other arm still occupied by the small being snuggled into him, and casually removed the piece of cardboard within it. "Oh."  
"What?"  
"Mycroft is getting married.. To Anthea"  
"And we've been invited?"  
"Well that explains why he's gone back on his rules.. I never factored love into the situation."  
Molly nodded but remained silent, watching Sherlock. He dropped the invite back onto the table and focussed on the baby once more. They did it often, she'd noticed; stared at one another. As though they were both trying to work out who the other one was, learn every intricate thing about the other being purely through looking. She was pretty sure Sherlock never factored love into many situations, including their own. She wanted to ask him about it, whether there was love between them, or whether it was purely him wanting to be her hero. Well she didn't need rescuing any more. She could get her job back, go back to being an independent woman without Sherlock Holmes if he just wanted to play at being a hero. She wouldn't let him play with her like this.  
"Sherlock.." she started, but froze as he looked up at her, his eyes fixed on her own. She remained silent, until he frowned, obviously bored with waiting for her to finish.  
"What?"  
"I- should we think of a name for him?" she chickened out, internally cursing herself.  
"Oh.. Yes."

John frowned as he read over Mycroft's invite, really rather confused as to why he'd been invited at all. He wasn't exactly one of Mycroft's friends, and he wasn't family. He'd probably go, though, he knew. Sherlock would make him if Sherlock was being made to go. He moved into Mary's bedroom and looked around. She's probably want to leave now that she was free to. Why would she bother with him. He was more than double her age, and she had her whole life ahead of her. She could train to be a teacher now, like she'd wanted. She could return home to her family, live happily. He'd get over her, he told himself as he began to pack her things back into the boxes they'd come in, just like he'd had to get over Sherlock. He ached a little inside at that thought. Sherlock would, no doubt, end up marrying Molly eventually, and he'd still be alone. It hurt. But at least Sherlock would be happy.  
"What are you doing?" the soft voice behind him made him turn and he looked at her, her blonde curls falling over her face in the way they so often did. She brushed them from her eyes irritably and he couldn't help but smile.  
"Packing up your things.. Make it easier for you to leave.."  
"Oh" she looked sad at his words and he frowned.  
"What is it? I thought you'd want to return to your family.. go to University.. that sort of thing.."  
"I- no.." she sighed "I want to stay with you. I meant what I said, John.. I'm falling- well, no.. I AM in love with you. I love you."  
He smiled softly, moving towards her and pulling her into his arms. He brushed the hair from her eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.  
"I love you too.. But, if you're going to stay here, I have one condition.."  
"What?"  
"You go to university.. Train to be a teacher, like you've always wanted."  
She laughed softly, nodding. "Deal"

"Alex.. I like it.." Molly smiled, brushing her fingers through her son's thick dark hair as he fed from her.  
"I'm glad you do.." Sherlock nodded, sitting down and handing Molly a glass of water. He wasn't sure where he'd read that breastfeeding women needed to keep hydrated, but it somehow stuck with him, no matter how many times he tried to delete it. "Alex Holmes.."  
"Holmes?"  
"Hooper Holmes?" Sherlock frowned "If you'd prefer.. Though, I'd much rather if you both.." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence. Molly was sure that this was the first time she'd ever seen Sherlock Holmes not finish a sentence.  
"If we'd both, what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"If you both took the name.. My name.. Holmes.." he shrugged. The corners of Molly's mouth curved into a smile.  
"I might.. If you ask properly." she smirked at him, her eyes twinkling. Ok so this wasn't how she'd imagined being proposed to, if that's what this even was, but it occurred to Molly that if it was the right person, it was always the right way to be proposed to.  
"Will you marry me, Molly Hooper?" he asked, tilting his head. She pretended to think about it for a few minutes, until the panic in Sherlock's eyes looked as though it was about to overwhelm him and cause him to have some sort of break down.  
"Of course I will.."

The five year old Alex Holmes bounded up the stairs towards flat 221b, followed by his father. He burst into the sitting room, full of energy, and immediately ran to hug his mother as she walked out from the kitchen.  
"How was your first day at big school?" she asked softly, her fingers brushing through the thick curls.  
"Brilliant.." the small boy beamed up at her, opening his school bag. "Where's Amelia? I drew a picture for her"  
"She's napping, sweetheart, you can give it to her when she wakes up.. Now.. Tell me about what you did at school.."  
Excitedly, Alex began telling his mother of his entire day, recapping every second in perfect detail. As she listened, Molly couldn't help but smile. Alex was growing up to be more and more like his father, yet he had a gentle, affectionate edge that could only really have come from her.  
"Did you remember to call Aunty Mary 'Mrs Watson'?"  
"Of course, mummy, I'm not an idiot."  
Then again, sometimes, he was exactly like Sherlock.

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" Molly asked softly as she lay with her head on Sherlock's lap. He stroked her hair, tangling the long strands around his fingers.  
"Honestly? No.." he chuckled softly, and she smiled at the rich, deep sound he made. She'd be the first to admit that life with Sherlock wasn't easy. He still got grumpy, still talked down to lesser minds like Anderson, and half the time, she would swear she had three children, not two. But she loved him, with every piece of her heart, and maybe, she considered, just maybe, Mycroft's New World hadn't been such a bad thing after all.


End file.
